


The Ghost and Mr. MacCunoval

by EliM (EliMiguel), EliMiguel



Category: The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947)
Genre: A ghost falls in love, Alternate Universe, Angst, Being two-timed, Betrayal, Falling In Love, First Time, Heartbreak, In-Laws, Loss, M/M, Moving On, The Light, The Past, Writing, ghost story, the past meets the present
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-02-19 20:17:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13131366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliMiguel/pseuds/EliM, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliMiguel/pseuds/EliMiguel
Summary: This is a gay re-do based on the 1947 movie 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.'Esca MacCunoval leases a home in the Silchester countryside only to find it is haunted by the ghost of a Roman Centurion. One thing leads to another, and without wanting, they fall in love. But betrayal and heartbreak lurk in the horizon.





	1. Pt. 1-3

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wendellthefierce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendellthefierce/gifts).



**To Begin Again**

 

Esca sat across from his in-laws trying to explain the reason why it was necessary for him to leave the security of the home they’d welcomed him into, after the untimely death of his husband, to go in search of a life of his own.

Esca had never had one of those: a life of his own.

The murder of both his parents, as well as his brothers, had found him in an orphanage at an early age.

He’d never known the warmth of family, although he had found the comfort of foster brothers and sisters.

Esca got married shortly after university, with a boy he met in a Roman history class he took as an elective to satisfy his anthropology program.

Esca had preferred a class on the Brigantes that was being offered in the same time slot, especially since he d came from one of the towns that had once made up the Celtic tribe’s territory: Northumberland.

Later, Esca would come to take the fact that he’d ended up in a class about a people he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about, as providential, for it was in that class he met Liathan; the love of his life.

Liathan and Esca’s love affair had been one that hadn’t needed more than a handful of dates for them to know they belonged together and that there was no one they’d rather welcome each morning with than each other.

They married not two months into their relationship: they eloped.

Liathan thought it to be more romantic than a ceremony, and because in truth… his mother and brother weren’t going to agree to a ceremony, especially since they weren’t even able to accept his homosexuality.

Liathan continued his schooling, while Esca worked to support the two of them, refusing any aid offered them by Liathan’s mother.

A couple of years later, the couple adopted, Ronan; a toddler the first and only girlfriend Liathan had ever had, claimed to be his.

The young woman was a free spirit, and a child was the last thing she wanted to be tied down to.

She signed over full custody to Liathan and Esca and disappeared from their lives never to be heard from again.

After graduation Liathan was offered a job as an architect apprentice, with a small firm, while Esca stayed home and cared for Ronan.

Life was good, and then…

Eight years into their life together, Liathan caught bacterial pneumonia, and died shortly after that, leaving Esca and Ronan alone.

Liathan’s mother insisted Esca move into their family home, in Manchester, since it was spacious enough, and she could care for Ronan while Esca worked.

The arrangement promised to be an uncomfortable one, but it was a necessary, for Ronan’s sake.

Although Liathan hadn’t left Esca and Ronan penniless, hospital and funeral bills took everything they’d ever managed to save.

Esca braved a year with Liathan’s mother and brother, where his life and parenting were scrutinized daily until he finally decided it was best if he moved out and began again on his own.

“And how the hell are you supposed to survive without our help,” Dergdian barked authoritatively, as his mother patted his hand trying to calm him down.

“Let us not forget, brother… I’ve been caring not only for myself, and Ronan, but for both you and mother since I moved in.”

“That’s called earning your keep!” Dergdian barked again.

“Esca… we’re only worried for you and Ronan, my dear.” Esca’s mother-in-law spoke softly, hoping a more patient tone than Dergdian’s, would help Esca see matters her way.

“I’ll be fine, mother… you need not worry about us.”

“No one gives a _fuck_ what happens to you! We’re worried for Ronan!” Dergdian yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Sshhhh, Dergdian,” the mother ordered in a louder tone than her previous soft speech, “that is no way to get your point across… Esca… if you leave here, who will help you with Ronan so that you can work to support the both of you?”

“I’m going to take Sasstica with me… besides… I’ve managed to save up a little money, and I was able to sell a couple of stocks I just found out Liathan had bought.”

Dergdian and the mother exchanged looks of surprise.

“Sold to who? Some fruitcake, like you, and my brother?” The tall, slender man, with the shoulder length wavy blonde hair, and blue-green eyes, began laughing hysterically.

The mother tried to show neutrality, but the smile she was desperately trying to hide, at her son’s words, said otherwise.

Liathan’s mother had never been accepting of her younger son’s homosexuality, but she’d tried, and that was the most that could be said of her.

Dergdian stood up and walked over to where Esca sat, standing menacingly over him,

“Listen to me… you leave here, you’re not coming back, even if you beg!”

“I won’t be coming back, and I’ve no intention on begging you for anything,” Esca asserted confidently.

“But,” the mother started once again, in the same patient voice she’d used earlier, “Esca, my dear, why don’t you leave Ronan here with us until you are settled in? We would feel so much more relieved.”

Esca grinned as hypocritically as his mother-in-law had been throughout the conversation, “Mother, Ronan will be fine… he’s with me.”

“And that’s _exactly_ why she’s worried,” Dergdian volunteered sarcastically.

Esca stood and walked over to the door that led to the kitchen, behind which Sasstica, and Ronan, had been eavesdropping, and announced his plans to leave within the week.

Dergdian and the mother both looked at the door as it closed behind Esca and then at each other.

Liathan’s mother began to weep silently, “That child is all I’ve left of your brother, Dergdian… what will I do without him?”

Dergdian, knelt beside his mother, trying to console her, “Don’t worry mother… Ronan and that gay rod will be back here before you know it. I’ll see to that.”

 

****

 

Esca sat on his bed, legs crossed, with his laptop opened in front of him, and a sleeping Ronan beside him. “Sasstica… I don’t want anywhere that’s close to Manchester!”

Sasstica shook her head in agreement,

“I think I found a couple of places that are a good possibility. I’m going to drive out to a couple of them tomorrow.”

“Where are they located, Mr. Esca?”

“One in Reading, another in Hampshire, and the other in Silchester.”

“Silchester… oh, Mr. Esca, a school friend of mine came from Silchester, and I’ve very fond memories there.”

“I’m sure… it certainly seems like a quaint and quiet little town… I want something like that for Ronan,”

Esca closed the laptop feeling confident about the three homes he’d chosen.

“Of course, you do, Mr. Esca.”

“Well, we’ll see tomorrow,” Esca smiled at Sasstica and kissed the top of a sleeping Ronan’s head.

 

@@@@@@@@@@

**The Haunted House**

 

Shortly after noon, Esca reached the realtor’s office, excited and looking forward to house hunting.

Excited because… not only did it mean that Esca finally got to move away from the negative energies that were his mother-in-law, and Dergdian, but he was excited because it meant that he would finally be on his own.

Of course, not completely on his own, but alone with the only two people in the world he truly cared for, and who truly cared for him.

“Mr. MacCunoval, I’ve been researching the three homes you inquired about, but regrettably one of them was leased this very morning… the one in Hampshire.”

Esca stamped his foot in disappointment. The Hampshire home had caught his eye because of its proximity to town and school.

“So,” the realtor, a man of medium height, with a good figure, a handsome face, and golden blonde hair continued, “I’ve made an appointment to see the home in Reading… that one has four bedrooms, a huge kitchen, maid’s room, a library, a study, five bathrooms, three car parking garage, and…,”

Esca, who’s head had begun to spin at the description of the house alone, interrupted. “That sounds like an estate, Mr. Carmichael.”

“That’s exactly what it is, and that’s also exactly what you sent me, Mr. MacCunoval. Hadn’t you read the description, sir?”

“Well, yes… I had… but it sounded a bit more toned down on line than what you’re describing.”

“Well, sir, that’s what that home offers… I do have another one, though.” The realtor lifted one page from the small stack, and his eyes bulged, before quickly placing it back, face down, on the stack of listings that were far over Esca’s budget. “If that one was a bit too extravagant for your taste, sir… this one…”

Esca reached over and lifted the page off the stack, and the realtor snatched it back from him.

“That’s the home I had added to my list, Mr. Carmichael…the one in Silchester, has it been leased, as well?”

After constant chattering, from the moment Esca had entered his office, Mr. Carmichael had gone quiet. “You wouldn’t want that home, sir,” Mr. Carmichael placed the page back on the pile.

Esca snatched it back, “Well, you’re not really giving me the opportunity to see whether I would want it, or not, Mr. Carmichael… so, sir… unless this home has already been leased, would you be so kind as to tell me about it… you were quite ready to talk about the other ones.”

“Mr. MacCunoval… that home is part of a farm… FAR from both town and school! Not at all what you’re looking for, sir.”

Esca interrupted him, “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that. Besides, I’ve a car, Mr. Carmichael, distance is not exactly a problem.”

“Yes, sir, but…” Esca almost dropped the page when he saw the price at the end of the listing, “Is that a typo, Mr. Carmichael? That property CAN’T possibly be only 800 pounds a month!”

A visibly shaken Mr. Carmichael, nodded, “Oh, it’s no typo, sir, that property is only 800 pounds a month.”

“But why is it being leased for such a ridiculous price?”

“The price isn’t what’s ridiculous about that property, my good man… it’s the property itself.”

Esca stared at Mr. Carmichael as though the man had lost all good sense.

“Believe me, Mr. MacCunoval, that house isn’t right for you… let’s look at this one… it’s in Berkshire.”

“Mr. Carmichael, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m the would-be-tenant here, and this is the house I wish to see.”

“But sir….”

Esca stood from his seat, looking as though he’d reached the end of his rope.

“Good day, sir… I’ll take myself down the street. I noticed another realtor as I was driving in; they might just have the house on their listings, as well, and more willing to show it than you are.”

Mr. Carmichael stood up from his chair and stopped Esca as he was about to walk out the front door. “I’ll take you to see the house, Mr. MacCunoval… but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Esca turned back and smiled, “Believe me, Mr. Carmichael, I won’t.”

 

****

 

When Mr. Carmichael’s car pulled up to the small villa, Esca nearly squealed, “A Roman villa. It’s beautiful.”

“Well, it’s not exactly an original, Mr. MacCunoval… it’s a faithful replica of the actual Roman villa that once stood here,” Mr. Carmichael looked around nervously, wishing, hoping, with all his might, that Esca would change his mind and not want to venture any further than the pathway.

Esca smiled and nodded. “I figured as much, Mr. Carmichael… I’m not that much of an idiot.”

Unfortunately, much to Mr. Carmichael’s dismay, the handsome, fair-haired man, walked up to the door and turned the handle.

“Why is it unlocked?”

Mr. Carmichael shrugged his shoulders mutely admitting he had no clue as to why.

“Perhaps, Mr. Eagleton is inside… I’d mentioned there was a problem with the drain in the impluvium.”

“An impluvium? Now, that I’ve got to see!” Esca opened the door and stood in the atrium… looking around at the darkened room, only lit by the skylight directly over the sunken pool.

“Mr. Carmichael… this is amazing… it’s almost like stepping back in time.”

Mr. Carmichael was glad the darkness of the room stopped Esca from seeing him shaking in his shoes.

Esca went from one room to the next in both excitement and awe.

The kitchen was a modern country kitchen, as were the two bathrooms, there was good closet space, a private study, and… “A bath house you can get to through that hallway to the left of the kitchen, that way.” Mr. Carmichael pointed to the narrow corridor, as well as other rooms, without moving from the atrium were he seemed frozen in place.

“I thought you said there were three bedrooms?”

“There _are_ three bedrooms, sir… the master suite is right up those steps.”

Esca scaled the stairs wishing to see his new bedroom if he decided to lease the home, which was looking like a very distinct possibility, thanks to the affordable monthly leasing price.

The room was quite plain with a few hunting frescos, along the walls, and a small fireplace at one corner. There was a good size bed in the center, with a wooden headboard, and foot board, a night table beside it, a high boy, a comfortable looking wing chair, and a writing desk. A double door window overlooked the farm land that extended as far as the eye could see, and a small private lake, he had not seen from the front, “I love it!” Esca murmured to himself. “I think we’ll be very happy here.”

 _“We will see just how happy you are going to be here, Briton!”_ A booming voice said from directly behind him.

“Mr. Carmichael, I told you that I…,” Esca stopped when he noticed the door still closed, and the realtor nowhere in sight.

“Crap… these walls are paper thin,” Esca said aloud, believing he’d overheard Mr. Carmichael talking to himself.

_“Shut up, you stupid man… these walls are sturdier than the mud huts you were dragged up in!”_

“Mr. Carmichael!” Esca yelled, “I’m _NOT_ deaf, you know! And... mind you... I _DO_ understand Latin!"

The door opened, and a pale faced Mr. Carmichael peaked in, “You’re talking to me, Mr. MacCunoval?”

“Yes! In case you don’t know, I’ve heard every derogatory remark you’ve made about me since you started your rant.”

“Rant? What rant, Mr. MacCunoval? I’ve been downstairs this whole time… I haven’t said anything to you… and… if I had it most _certainly_ would not have been in Latin. I couldn’t speak to you in Latin if my life depended on it, but I think I...”

Suddenly, a loud booming laugh vibrated throughout the house, and then a frightening command followed, _“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, BOTH OF YOU!!! BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT!”_

Esca and the realtor nearly ran over each other trying to get out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door, which slammed shut behind them the moment they cleared the first step.

“You see now, Mr. MacCunoval… that’s _exactly_ why I didn’t want to show you this blasted house…it’s a plague on the countryside, but the owner can’t find anyone stupid enough to buy it… so… he fooled me into becoming its agent, and it’s driving me to drink.” Mr. Carmichael lashed out nearly overcome with tears.

“ _What was that_?”

“It’s _not_ a _what_ , _it’s a who_. The ghost of a Roman Centurion who lived here once.”

Esca shook his head and looked back at the house. “A Roman Centurion? Are you joking with me?"

" _No_ , Mr. MacCunoval... I wish I was, but... unfortunately, I am _not_ joking!"

"Why is he still here?”

“All I know is he’s an ancestor of Mr. Eagleton’s. He died here, sir, and that's the extent of what I know.”

Esca turned to look back at the crème color villa, smiled, and said, “Mr. Carmichael…. I’ll take it!”

 

@@@@@@@@@@

 

**Settling In**

 

A week later found Esca settling into the villa, helping Sasstica with the cleaning, and straightening.

He felt blessed the villa had come furnished since he’d had to put out the first month’s lease payment, as well as a deposit, along with Mr. Carmichael’s fee.

Another blessing of a fully furnished home was all that needed to be done was for Esca, Ronan, and Sasstica to throw their belongings into the back of Esca’s SUV, and head out to their new home, and their new life.

Esca had been on his hands and knees on the kitchen floor scrubbing the tiles to their original shine, while Sasstica had washed the surfaces, and polished the wood.

“Ahhhh… my back,” Esca groaned as he tried straightening up, “but… at least it’s done.” He added as he proudly looked around and smiled with great satisfaction.

Sasstica inspected the floor, the cabinets, and counter tops, and nodded, “Yes, Mr. MacCunoval… we’ve done a bloody good job with this place if you ask me.”

Esca stood up slowly his hands cushioning his lower back, as if trying to contain the pain to that specific area, “Sasstica,” Esca began shyly, “…are you too tired to whip us both up a cup of tea?”

Sasstica chuckled and made her way over to the counter, “Of course not Mr. MacCunoval… but… you look like you’re about to keel over, sir… why don’t you go upstairs and take a wee nap? I will call you when the tea and biscuits are ready, hmmm?”

Esca nodded because he truly didn’t feel like passing up that invitation, especially since he felt as though his knees would give out at any given moment.

“Agreed... let’s see, its four o’clock now, how’s about you wake me up at 5?”

“Yes, sir… now off with you.” Sasstica waved Esca off to his room.

Esca entered his room, grabbed the rusty red throw, Sasstica had placed over the top of the wingchair and walked over to the window and closed its doors.

Sasstica had opened them to air out the room, but a cool wind had begun to blow, and Esca’s bedroom had become uncomfortably cold.

Esca lit the small fireplace and made himself comfortable on the black leather wingchair in front of it; he closed his eyes and sighed with deep contentment.

Esca was happy there: on that chair… in that home.

Esca fell asleep immediately, carried to a restful slumber by sheer exhaustion.

He and Sasstica had been working on restoring the small villa to a livable condition for all of three days, and now that it was finally over, he couldn’t be happier.

As Esca slept, ever so soundly, a shadowy figure walked out from within the wall, and stood over him, bending down slightly to study the sleeping form oblivious to the figure’s presence.

A few minutes later, the clock on the wall chimed five times, and by the last chime Esca slowly opened his eyes to look around at what was now a blackened room, lit only by the dying embers within the fireplace.

A chill went through him and the hairs on the back of his neck, and on his arms, stood at full attention.

Suddenly, the bedroom door began opening ever so slowly, and Esca braced himself for whatever might enter, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized Sasstica peeking in, blinking as if to adjust her eyes to the darkness.

“I’m awake Sasstica.”

Sasstica played with the light switch, but the ceiling light didn’t come on. “There must be a short in the wiring, sir… you may want to call Mr. Carmichael about it tomorrow… there’s a new bulb I put up there myself.”

“I’ll do it first thing, for now, I’ll use the lamp.” Esca walked over to his night table and switched it on.

“That’s better!” Sasstica exclaimed with a wide smile, Now, Mr. MacCunoval… I’ve got some nice tea and biscuits waiting for you downstairs, sir.”

“Has Ronan had his dinner?” Esca asked as he folded the throw and replaced it carefully over the top of the wing chair once again.

“Yes, sir, he has, and he’s in his room playing with his train set.”

As Esca was about to close the door behind him, the lights throughout the house began flickering, and suddenly, everything went black.

 

****

 

Later that night, an unusually brave Ronan went to sleep without a hitch, and Esca made his way to Sasstica’s room to bid her a good night; he also wanted reassurance the blackout throughout the countryside was a normal.

Sasstica, who’d been a guest at her friend’s home in the Silchester countryside many times, many, many years, earlier, told Esca that blackouts in the Silchester countryside were quite a normality and nothing to worry about.

Of course,  those blackouts usually were a result of a thunderstorm, she added, but she was certain there was a valid reason.

Esca breathed another sigh of relief, and made his way through the pitch-black home, with the light from his cell phone leading the way.

Esca ended up in the kitchen where he went over to the refrigerator to pour himself a glass of water.

Suddenly the phone went black.

“What _the_ hell! I just charged this stupid thing.”

Esca made his way to a kitchen drawer and pulled out a votive candle and a box of matches. Esca struck a match and tried to light the candle, but every time he tried, the flame would blow out, and he’d be back in the dark.

“Okay… smart ass…,” Esca angrily yelled into the dark, “you’ve had your fun… now kindly go back to wherever the FUCK you came from and GET LOST!!”

Esca tried lighting the candle once again, but this time it stayed lit.

He finished drinking his glass of water, placed the glass in the sink, and turned to leave, but found his way blocked by a tall shadowy figure.

The figure stepped into the candle’s light, and a shaking Esca looked into the face of a Roman Centurion in full armor.

The handsome figure wore his red crested helmet, holding a vine staff he kept hitting against the palm of his left hand. _“What did you say to me, you filthy Briton?”_ He asked in Latin through clenched teeth.

Esca almost dropped the small votive candle had he not had the good sense to quickly place it atop the counter beside him.

Esca breathed deeply, gathered his strength, and lifted his head as if to show the ghost he was not afraid of him, _“I said for you to let me light my candle and for you to get lost! What part of that didn’t you understand, Roman?”_ Esca answered in the Latin he’d learned while at the orphanage school.

The ghost narrowed his eyes dangerously and closed in on Esca who was already backed, as far as he could be, against the granite counter.

 _“How DARE you speak to me like that, you Briton scum? Do you know who I am?”_   It was obvious the ghost was seething, and Esca was offering a prayer to whoever wished to listen, that he gets out of his current predicament in one piece.

Esca lifted his head a bit higher wanting to make it perfectly clear, to the arrogant Roman, that he wasn’t going to be bullied, nor intimidated, by him as all the other tenants before Esca had been.

 _“You’re a Roman… and a dead one at that... and I dare to speak to you in that way, because YOU, SIR, are IN MY HOME… NOT the other way around!”_ Esca swallowed hard and braced himself for the worst.

The Roman ghost burst out laughing, _“YOUR home?”_

_“Yes… MY home! I will be leasing this house for the next year, sir, whether YOU like it, or not… so I suggest you best be on your way.”_

_“On my way! Do you know who I am? I am Marcus Flavius Aquila! Rescuer of the Eagle of the Ninth and this, I will have you know… you filthy barbarian scum is MY home….,”_ the ghost was interrupted in mid sentence.

 _“Correction… this WAS your home, and not even… the house that ONCE stood here was YOUR home.”_ Esca asserted himself trying to sound as confidant as he didn’t feel.

Esca stepped around the ghost and moved toward the kitchen door. _“If anything, I’ve more of a right to be here than you, Marcus whatever your name is.”_

The ghost growled angrily, _“Know this, son of a misbegotten whore, if you are not out of my home by tomorrow noon, I am going to…”_

 _“What?”_   Esca interrupted the snarling ghost trying to keep hide the fact he felt as though he was about to pass out on the floor.

“Rattle a few chains, float around the house draped in a white sheet, bore us with a long drawn out chorus of BOOOOO’s?”

_“I will make certain you rue the day you EVER laid eyes on this house.”_

Esca had a feeling the ghost wasn’t offering up empty threats, but he had little choice.

Not only had Esca signed a year’s lease agreement with Mr. Carmichael, Esca had used almost all of his money on the lease of the home, and in buying household items.

The only other alternative was for them to move back with his salty in-laws, which wasn't in the cards as far as Esca was concerned.

“ _I’ll take my chances… but I’m NOT leaving!”_

The Roman ghost was taken back by Esca’s obstinacy, but he recuperated quickly, _“Very well, Briton… do not say I did not warn you!”_


	2. The Confrontation

The Roman ghost had been true to his word.

The ghostly Centurion made certain each of Esca’s days was more miserable than the one before: he brought down pictures hung securely on the walls, turned lights on and off, as well as the TV and radio. Some nights he even went as far as to let the water run in the bathtub until it overflowed onto to the bathroom floor, and even out onto the hallway.

The only thing that gave Esca the strength to bare it all was the other option open to him: going back to live with Liathan’s mother and brother, and that was as appealing an alternative, as was standing in front of a speeding train.

Esca was grateful the ghost seemed to keep his haunting exclusively aimed at him, and kept both Ronan and Sasstica out of it. The seven-year old never complained of nightmares, scary noises, nor the appearance of the boogey man dressed in Roman armor. On the contrary, Ronan was very happy with his new room, in his new home. But maybe it was only a matter of time before the ghost turned on him, as well.

Sasstica being unaffected was not surprising to Esca, especially because she considered herself too level headed to believe in either ghosts nor the hauntings they were often accused of perpetrating. She was the kind that probably would’ve rationalized the hauntings even if the ghost turned on her.

Esca, on the other hand, was affected, and one month of ghostly taunts had left him feeling overwhelmed until he was forced to admit defeat. The anniversary of their first 30 days in their new home found Esca calling Mr. Carmichael to let him know that he would be leaving the house with the excuse that Ronan hadn’t been able to adapt to his new school as well as Esca had hoped he would.

The most difficult part of his decision was having to break Ronan’s heart, but it was either that or his own sanity. Esca sat at the edge of his bed in tears wondering how to tell Ronan they were going to have to go back to that house, especially since the boy had never been truly happy there. There had always been too many rules and regulations.

Esca dried his eyes and decided to leave the bad news for the morning. Let the boy get one more peaceful and happy night’s sleep… there would be reason enough to cry in the days to follow. “Damn you, Liathan,” Esca cried out into the darkness of night, “why did you have to go and leave me alone… leave us alone!”

 _“Who is this Liathan you cry for?”_ The Roman ghost’s deep voice penetrated the room’s dimness, and a startled Esca immediately jumped up and off his bed, looking around looked angry… furious with the arrogant ghost that had brought him to this point.

 _“What the FUCK do you care, you selfish piece of shit!”_ He barked his response in Latin.

 _“I do NOT care… I am merely curious."_ The ghostly figure came out from within the darkness and walked toward Esca stopping a full arm’s length away, _“Was he your father, your brother, your son?”_

Esca interrupted him. _“He was my fucking husband, okay!”_ Esca yelled at the top of his lungs, suddenly hoping he hadn’t awakened Sasstica and Ronan.

The Roman ghost’s eyes widened with shock, _“Your husband?”_ He asked Esca in disbelief, looking him up and down with disgust, _“But you are a man? I have seen you undressed and I…”_

Now it was Esca’s turn to look disgusted, _“You fucking pervert!”_

The Roman ghost growled with anger, _“How dare you?”_

_“How dare I? How dare YOU invade my privacy?”_

_“I can invade whatever I wish, tribesman! How many times must I tell you this is MY house? I know you are a Briton and cannot help being as stupid as you are, but you cannot possibly be that dim witted!”_

_“What the fuck!”_ Esca had had enough; he lifted a glass vase Sasstica had filled with flowers and placed on his night table, and threw it at the ghost. The vase went through the ghostly figure shattering as it hit the fireplace mantle. The Roman ghost roared with laughter.

Esca looked at the laughing ghost and sank back onto his bed. Defeated. He’d had enough of fighting a losing battle. The ghost had won. Of course, he had. How could he not?

“ _You know what… you can have your house back. We’re leaving anyway. I didn’t sign up for this. I left my in-laws’ house looking for peace and quiet… I’m worse off here than I was there, so you can keep your stupid house and I hope you rot in it!”_

_“That I have already done, Briton.”_

Esca mocked a chuckle.

Noting the sadness in Esca’s face, and feeling how deeply within him it ran, the ghost lost his humor and drew nearer to the lonely seated figure. “Apologies, tribesman... I only meant that what I have seen of you does NOT resemble parts found on a normal woman. You must understand, I never bedded a Briton woman before, therefore, I do not know how they are… assembled.”

Esca could see the ghost was sincere. _“By “normal,” I gather you’re meaning Roman women. Yes?”_

The Roman ghost nodded.

_“Our women are built no different than yours. Better as a matter of fact!”_

The Roman ghost shook his head adamantly. _“Apologies, but… I tend to differ… I would much prefer a cunt to stick my cock in, and tits to fondle, than lying with a woman who looks no different than I!”_

_“Cock? What cock? You have no cock. Whatever cock you had was eaten by maggots years ago.”_

For a moment, the Roman ghost looked as though he would fly into an angry rage, and then his features softened and he smiled. _“Are there not enough women in Britannia, tribesman, that you chose to marry a man?”_

_“I didn’t fall in love with a woman. I fell in love with a man, so I married him.”_

_"And this is normal to you?"_

_"More normal than my sitting here having this conversation with a two-thousand year old Roman ghost."_

The ghostly Centurion nodded his head although Esca could tell he hadn’t fully understood Esca’s reasoning, but he had more important things to worry about and couldn’t be bothered with whether or not the ghostly Centurion understood his sexual preferences.

_“Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get some rest. I have some unpleasant business to tend to tomorrow and I need my strength.”_

The Roman ghost didn’t budge from where he stood. _“And what unpleasant business might that be?”_

_“Shite you’re nosey! Very well, how about this…I came here really excited… thinking I could begin anew… make a good life for Ronan and for myself, and you ruined everything, because you won’t give up the ghost and let go of something that’s no longer yours.”_

The ghost snarled and Esca knew he’d gone too far, but he no longer cared. _“I hate that because of you I can’t give my son the normal peaceful life I envisioned when I first saw this place. I hate that come tomorrow I’m going to have to ruin his happiness, because he is happy here, you know. And it’s actually the only time he’s been truly happy since his father died… and I have to ruin that all because of you!”_

 _“And what is your reasoning for this, Briton?”_ The Roman ghost calmly inquired much to Esca’s growing fury.

_“YOU ARE! You stupid, ignorant, arrogant, horse’s arse!!”_

The ghost lowered his head so that Esca couldn’t see the wide smile that had crossed his handsome face, and then he lifted his eyes again. _“There is no need to do that to the boy.”_

_“No? And what's the alternative? Sit here and let you drive me insane with your shenanigans?”_

_“I do not know what that is, but I ask you do not make the boy suffer on my account.”_

_“What other choice do I have?”_

_“Stay! You have my word… I will not be the one to drive you from my home. You may remain here for as long as you like.”_

Esca looked at the Roman ghost suspiciously. _“I’m sorry but I don’t believe you.”_

_“Argggh… I gave you my word, Briton. The word of a Roman, not the word of an uncivilized barbarian!”_

Esca shook his head and chuckled without meaning to. _“How do you do it?”_

 _“How do I do what, Briton?”_ The frustrated ghost asked through tightly clenched teeth.

_“How do you offer an olive branch with one hand, and slap me across the face with the other?”_

_“Listen, tribesman… were it not for your son, I would drive you out from here at this very moment… so take care. My generosity has its limits!”_

Esca turned hopeful grey eyes toward the double window, not wanting the Roman ghost to see he was tearing up. _“Then I accept your generous offer, Centurion, and I thank you.”_

_“My name is Marcus Flavius Aquila.”_

_“Thank you Marcus Flavius Aquila. My name is Esca… and I’d rather you call me that to ‘Briton,’ or ‘tribesman’.”_

The ghost nodded expressionless. _“I will try my best, but I cannot promise.”_

Esca shrugged his shoulders and shook his head slowly. _“Roman, you are truly hopeless.”_

 

@@@@@@@@@@

 

One week later Esca had some unexpected, and unwelcomed guests.

“What brings you all the way out here Dergdian? Mother,” Esca politely inquired of his mother-in-law and brother-in-law as he passed the cups of tea Sasstica had poured for each of them.

“Bad news I’m afraid, Esca, dear,” Liathan’s mother began sounding truly sorrowful.

And “bad news” was the last thing Esca wanted to hear, especially since the peace treaty between himself and the Roman ghost had taken effect, the house had been a virtual paradise. The Roman ghost had quit his torments of Esca, and hadn’t been heard of since the night they had come to a truce.

Esca looked up from the white porcelain china cup he’d raised to his lips, and from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the armored Roman ghost leaning against the fireplace mantel, carefully observing Liathan’s mother and brother.

“Liathan’s stockbroker called this morning and told us to deliver a message to you… he said the company has filed bankruptcy, and the stocks you own are now worthless… I’m so very sorry, my dear.”

Esca felt as though someone had moved the chair right from under him, and he’d fallen flat on his arse. That was the only security he had left. He had depended on the sale of those stocks to keep him covered for at least the next year, or so. Esca found himself looking in the direction of the ghost who stood straight as an arrow, arms crossed, glaring at Esca’s in-laws.

“And with no income,” Dergdian joined in, “you’re going to need to come home immediately.”

“Why wouldn’t he call me himself?” Was all Esca could say.

“He tried, dear… he was unable to get in touch with you. He said your phone kept going to voice mail, and he thought this wasn’t the kind of thing to leave as a message.”

Trying not to sound as desperate as he felt, Esca tried arguing the matter, “Is he sure of that?”

Liathan’s mother nodded silently.

The ghostly Centurion found himself feeling a deep empathy for the plight his tenant found himself in, for it did not look very hopeful. The ghost found himself wishing he’d never subjected Esca to the torturous month of constant haunting the handsome blonde had had to endure.

“Well, then… I’ll have to find myself a job.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Esca… a job isn’t going to be enough to pay the monthly on this house, your car note, and put food on your table.” Dergdian snapped.

“Yes,” Liathan’s mother added, “my dear… despite your wanting to have your independence… you cannot put your needs, and wants, ahead of Ronan’s… he needs and deserves a stable home life.”

“And a stable home life is exactly what he’s NOT going to get in a home run by you!” Dergdian added.

The fuming Roman ghost looked up and grinned wolfishly, _“Tell them to fuck off… their welcome here has expired.”_ He demanded calmly not wanting to raise his voice at Esca.

 _“I can’t do that!”_ Esca blurted out to no one, since outside of himself, the Roman ghost was invisible an inaudible to everyone else. _“No matter what… they’re still Liathan and Ronan’s family.”_

Dergdian and his mother shared an incredulous look. “What is this pixie saying, mother?”

“He’s speaking in Latin.”

“Have you gone batty, Esca?” Dergdian blurted out standing up from his chair.

“Are you well, dear?” Liathans’ mother followed her son’s lead trying to ascertain Esca’s mental stability, or whether he was trying to make fools of them.

 _“I doubt either your husband, or your son would care if you dragged this cunny and this cinaedus both out of the house by their hair!”_ The ghost insisted.

 _“Why don’t you just shut-up and mind your own business! No one’s asking your opinion, Roman.”_ Esca demanded angrily.

The older woman’s mouth dropped in surprise as she leaned into her son, who immediately wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, “I’m only trying to help you, dear, but… if you insist.”

“No, Mother, I wasn’t talking to you.” Esca insisted.

“Listen, you little piece of shite,” Dergdian released his mother, and walked menacingly over to Esca, “I’m going to get great pleasure from beating the bloody crap out of your crazy arse, for talking to my mother like that… besides… it’s not like I’ve ever liked you very much anyway!” If Dergdian’s reddened, angry, face had not been enough to underline his menacing words, the upraised fists he had leveled with Esca’s face, certainly did so.

Esca ducked as his former brother-in-law swung a hard right that barely missed its mark, “Fight like a man… oh wait… I forgot… you can’t fight like a man because you’re NOT a man… you sissy bitch,” and he swung again.

This time Dergdian swung with his left, but his hook was caught by an invisible force that twisted his arm painfully behind him and pulled his head back by the hair. _“Lay one finger on him, cinaedus, and I will tear each one of your fingers from the bone and feed them to that cunt of a mother of yours!”_ A booming voice filled the room with the threat and a terrified Dergdian looked around shaking and whimpering.

The same force suddenly grabbed the older woman by her coat collar, dragged her to her feet, took Dergdian by the hair, and dragged the two of them out of the living room, and out the front doors, which slammed open as they neared them as though they’d been anxiously awaiting their exit.

Esca, who’d run behind them, apologizing all the way, locked eyes with the Roman ghost as the doors slammed shut behind the hysterical mother and son. The fright made Liathan's mother and brother forget they had a car waiting for them, and into the hillside yelling and screaming they went.

The Roman ghost rubbed his hands together and looked over at Esca with a wide smile. _“I can promise you those two shall never burden you with their presence again, Briton.”_

Esca looked at the Roman ghost and smiled, _"Thank you, Marcus."_

Then the two of them broke into a fit of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this story. I hope you enjoyed it, and please don't forget to leave feedback, if you'd like. Your comments, and kudos, if you feel it deserves it, are so very much appreciated. Thank you again.


	3. It Begins

 

The first month hadn’t been an easy one with the Roman ghost intent on driving Esca out of the small hillside villa, but a couple of months later had seen a definite improvement. Things had taken a turn for the better since the Marcus and Esca had come to a truce and Esca couldn’t be more pleased. Esca had finally achieved the peace of mind and spirit he’d been longing for, but… when it came to his finances, that was another story.

After Esca’s in-laws’ impromptu visit, Esca had spoken to Liathan’s broker to confirm his in-laws claims about the company’s bankruptcy and the stopping of the dividends that had kept him going since Liathan’s death. Unfortunately, they hadn’t delivered a facetious message as Esca had hoped they had: trying to bother his life, or ruin his day until the broker told him otherwise. Liathan’s mother and brother had delivered the message exactly as it had been relayed to them, and Esca thought on the pleasure they must’ve had telling him. Especially since they’d been proven right about his not being able to live outside their keep.

The rental fee was near one month late and Mr. Carmichael had made it a point to send Esca daily reminders; now, along with one of those reminders had come a 5-day notice where Esca either paid the rent due, immediately, or vacated the premises. Esca sat on the square linen chest at the foot of his bed, and shook his head feeling the most defeated he’d felt since Liathan’s illness had taken a turn for the worse.

The Roman ghost made himself visible and stood by the fireplace. _“What bothers you so, Briton?”_

_“It’s only a matter of days before we find ourselves evicted.”_

_"What is this evicted you speak of?_ What _does this mean?”_

_“I haven’t paid the rental fee on this property this month, Marcus, and the manager is demanding it.”_

The ghost walked over to Esca and sat beside him on the trunk. _“Is that all that bothers you, Briton? I can put a stop to that at once!”_

Esca shook his head explaining that it wouldn’t do any good since he owed that month’s rental fee whether he paid it now, or one month from now. The problem lay in the fact that Esca wasn’t able to pay the rental fee to Mr. Carmichael. He had used the money he had for the moving, Ronan’s school, and settling into the home.

_“In the end, I may have no other choice but to return to that miserable house.”_

_“Why? There is no need for you to leave, besides… you are not happy there, and neither is the boy.”_

Esca stood up and walked over to the double windows and looked down to see Ronan playing ball with one of the neighbor boys, while Sasstica watched him from where she sat. Marcus kept a keen eye on Esca’s every move. _“I have no money, Marcus. How am I supposed to stay here?”_

_“Have you no one who can lend you the money you need, Briton?”_

_“No, Marcus… I don’t. You think if I had anyone, aside from those two miserable human beings, who could help me, I’d be in this predicament?”_

The solemn ghost nodded. _“I understand, Briton. I, too, had no one, except for my uncle who owned the villa that once stood in this very spot.”_ The ghost stood and joined Esca by the double windows, smiling as he caught sight of the laughing boy below, and then out at the land beyond. _“It still looks very much the same as it did then, except the grass is cut shorter, and there are less trees.”_

_“Did you live here with him?”_

_“Yes… after I was wounded I was sent here.”_ The ghost placed his hands behind his back and became pensive. _“He was a good man, my uncle. I owed him a great deal.”_

 

_“Where did you live before you came to live here with your uncle?”_

_“I was commander at the fort at Isca Dumnoniorum.”_ Esca smiled and nodded his head. He had read much on Roman Britain in school, and he knew Isca Dumnoniorum was modern day Exeter. _“Did you return to the fort after you healed?”_

Marcus shook his head adamantly and with great sadness that did not escape Esca’s notice. _“My wound was on my thigh. It never healed, therefore, I never went back.”_

Esca didn’t press the subject, feeling the ghost’s sudden discomfort, and respecting his privacy, he turned to his present situation. _“All I can do is call Mr. Carmichael and beg him for a few extra days if need be.”_ Esca broke the silence.

Marcus turned to Esca and caught him off guard with his words. _“I do not wish you to leave here, Briton… I have… I have grown accustomed to your presence… I have grown fond of the boy, and of your slave, as well.”_

 _“Sasstica isn’t my slave! How many times do I need to correct you on that?”_ An frustrated Esca snapped at the Roman ghost.

Esca was tired: tired of thinking, tired of wondering, tired of wanting, tired of wishing Liathan hadn’t died and left him alone. Esca walked back to the trunk at the edge of his bed and sat with his head in his hands.

Recognizing the undertone of one nearing the end of his strength, and wanting to help, Marcus knelt before Esca on one knee hoping to comfort him with what he was about to say. _“Do not be saddened Esca… I…”_

But Esca lifted his eyes to Marcus and interrupted him. _“You called me Esca!”_

_“Is that not your name?”_

_“Yes!”_ Esca chuckled. _“Yes, it is, but it’s been such a long time since anyone called me by my name. I’ve become use to only hearing people call me Mr. MacCunoval, Daddy, or… Briton, that I have forgotten what it sounds like to hear someone call me by my name.”_

_“If you do not wish me to call you by your name, I can continue calling you, Briton.”_

Esca smiled and tried to reach out and touch Marcus’ hand, but his own hand slid right through, _“No, please… call me Esca, by all means.”_

Marcus stood keeping his eyes on the still seated figure of the smaller man. _“Very well… Esca, if you truly do not wish to leave here, I shall help you.”_

_“How?”_

_“Leave that to me. I shall have to ponder on it, but until I arrive at a solution, you are needing to pay that idiot his money, therefore, you must do as I say.”_

A suddenly excited Esca nodded.

_“You are in possession of certain items that will benefit you more sold than stored… such as that ring on your finger, the silver brooch within that jewelry box, and…”_

Esca shook his head vehemently, _“I can’t do that Marcus! This is my wedding ring, and that brooch is all I have left of my mother!”  
_

_"Esca, if you wish to stay in this house, sacrifices must be made.”_

A mute Esca nodded for he knew the ghost was right. Perhaps if he pawned the ring and his mother’s brooch, he might be able to buy them again one day, if they hadn’t been sold before then. He could only hope for the best.

 _“Sell the ring,”_ Marcus continued. _“the brooch, and anything else you may find that possesses even the smallest bit of value. You will secure this month’s payment, and if Fortuna is on your side, next month’s, as well. Leave the rest to me.”_

Esca nodded his agreement and watched as the ghostly centurion began vanishing and disappeared into thin air. A more hopeful Esca wondered where the Roman ghost went when he was not there with him. Esca didn’t believe in Heaven or Hell; maybe a Limbo. Esca figured it was probably there that Marcus retired along with all the other unrestful souls that supposedly dwell in Limbo. There was no doubt in Esca’s mind Marcus was unrestful, after all… what was he still doing there? Why did he refuse to move on? Why did he refuse to give up the ghost nearly two thousand years after his death? One day, when they were friendlier, and on more comfortable ground, Esca would muster the courage to ask him.

Until then, it wasn’t important for Esca to know. All he needed to know was that Marcus was willing to help him, which ever way that might be, and that was all that mattered at the moment. Before bed, Esca gathered all of his valuables and decided to take them to a pawn shop in London the next morning.

@@@@@@@@@@

The next day, after pawning his wedding ring, his mother’s brooch, and some silverware he and Liathan had received as wedding gifts, Esca visited Mr. Carmichael’s office and paid that months rental fee, as well as the fee for the next couple of months. The pawnbroker had been generous and Esca had managed to have a decent amount of money left over after paying his debts. That night he would sleep soundly, but he still needed to figure out what he would do to keep them covered when the money ran out. He couldn’t just depend on Marcus to help, and he also wasn’t planning on taking Sasstica up on her offer to find a day job to help with the expenses.

 _“What worries you now, Esca?”_   Marcus’ voice came from directly behind Esca who sat lost in thought. Esca jumped not expecting the ghost’s appearance, but recovered quickly from his start.

_“Wondering how I will make ends meet when the time comes, Marcus.”_

The ghost walked around to stand in front of Esca, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with one leg crossed in front of the other. _“I told you to leave that to me.”_

_“And what are you planning on doing? Getting a job as a barrista at the local pub? Or as a valet at Silchester House?”_

_“I do not understand.”_

Esca waved a hand for Marcus to disregard what he had said.

_“I have found a solution to your problem…I have decided you will write my life story.”_

Esca stared at Marcus incredulously and then burst into a fit of laughter; Marcus was not amused.

 _“Keep laughing and I will leave you here to ponder your troubles on your own, Briton!”_  

Esca shook his head and apologized. _“Marcus, I am not laughing at YOU! I’m laughing at myself. I’m sure your life is very interesting, but… I don’t think I’m the one to write it.”_

_“You WILL write it, because I will help you write it!”_

_“And who will take this modern day ‘Gone With The Wind' once I'm done?"_ Esca rolled his eyes.

_“There you need not worry. I know someone. All you need do is write every word I tell you and then deliver it to him.”_

Knowing how useless it would be to argue the point with the ghostly centurion, Esca nodded his agreement. _“Yea, sure. Why the fuck not!”_

_“Very well. We will begin in the morrow after the sun rises.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for keeping up with this story, friends. I really appreciate it. And please share your feedback and comments with me. I always love reading them. And to those of you who leave kudos, as well, I'm most grateful.


	4. The Book

The following three weeks found Marcus and Esca working diligently on chapter after chapter of the book.

They worked from sun-up to sun-down, and sometimes to near midnight, but it was a labor of love. Marcus’ story was a fascinating one and Esca enjoyed listening to every detail; he also began feeling productive again, something he had not felt since before Liathan’s illness.

Marcus and Esca’s routine was a simple one: Marcus would awaken Esca every morning, but as the days went by, Esca got use to rising from bed on his own. Esca would eat his breakfast, and then lock himself up in the small library located in the tower at the back of the U-shaped villa with a DO NOT DISTURB, sign hanging from the door knob. Esca’s privacy was guaranteed there, although weekends were less than peaceful with Ronan and some of his little friends playing hide-and-go-seek on the grounds. The noise didn’t seem to bother Marcus, since it was as though the story was already written in his head, and all he needed do was put down on paper.

Esca was excited to hear Marcus’ story, something he’d been curious about since the very beginning. And when the storytelling began, Esca was not disappointed.

Marcus had been born on his father’s farm in Etruria. His father, Flavius Aquila, commanded the First Co-Hort of the Ninth Legion Hispania. When Marcus was ten, his father, and the Ninth were sent to Caledonia to squelch an uprising in the third year of the Emperor Hadrian. All the Northern tribes joined forces, and Flavius not only lost all five thousand men, and their golden standard, but his life, as well. Marcus’ mother did not survive the death of her husband for more than a year, and the newly orphaned Marcus became the ward of his mother’s sister, and her husband.

At the age of 17, Marcus joined the Eagles. Esca noted down how Roman soldiers were not referred to as ‘soldiers,’ but as Eagles. Something he thought any publisher, or reader, would find an interesting detail.

The dishonor that followed Marcus, as a result of his father’s failure, made it impossible for him to begin his military career in any other capacity but that of a legionnaire. And although Marcus’ aunt’s husband could have made things easier for Marcus by putting in a word, or a recommendation on his behalf, especially since the man belonged to a senatorial family, the man did nothing on Marcus’ behalf. Marcus stopped there and shook his head. _“In truth, I would not have wanted his help. I would have carried the weight of that favor until the end of my days, and no matter what I would have done to try and repay it, it would have never been enough.”_

Esca understood what it was like to feel beholding to someone, so he didn’t blame Marcus, nor his pride. _“He sold my father’s farm to compensate his coffers for having fed and clothed me for the seven years I lived under his roof.”_ Marcus laughed. _“A mistake he would later come to regret, but… we will get to that later.”_

The first few chapters were filled with stories of Marcus’ life as a legionnaire: the rigorous training, the marching, the weapons and tactics every Roman soldier had to learn to master. They told of the dedication and tenacity that drove Marcus to become the best soldier he could be in his attempt to erase his father’s disgrace. Marcus’ determination helped him to rise through the ranks at a quicker pace than most others, for there were many who never did; they began as legionnaires, and legionnaires they remained. But Marcus had a greater purpose to fill, and he would not, he could not accept anything less than the achievement of the goals he’d set for himself.

At the age of thirty, Marcus earned the title and rank of Primus Pilus of the Second Legion Augusta, and when asked where he wished to be stationed, Marcus chose Britannia. _“I needed to know what happened to my father and there was no better place to come upon that knowledge than here.”_

_“Wasn’t he dead, though?”_

“ _Yes, I had no doubt he was dead, but I needed to know if he had died honorably… as becomes a Roman soldier… or if he had cowered and ran, as many men do when faced with certain death.”_

_“Don’t you think you were being unfair, Marcus? Every man is not the same, and unless you’ve been faced with a similar situation, you never know how you may react.”_

Marcus waved away Esca's words and didn’t continue the line of conversation, instead he moved on to how his first command had been the garrison at Isca Dumnoniorum, and how his welcome there had been less than warm. He was seen as a _“bad omen,”_ because of who his father had been, and his every word and move was scrutinized and criticized. The only friend Marcus seemed to have was a local tribesman named Cradoc, Chieftain of the Dumnonii. The two would hunt together, and on occasion Cradoc even let Marcus race his team of whites. Marcus saw Cradoc as a friend…

And then the unthinkable happened.

One night, the garrison came under attack by a small army of tribesman, and had it not been for Marcus’ instinct, and the repairs he’d had made to the fort’s defenses, most of his men would have been killed. The next morning, a Druid who’d been wandering the villages, led the Dumnonii to the fort, and to antagonize the Roman’s, he beheaded a Roman officer that had been captured by them.

_“To this day, I have never forgotten that moment. Poor Gaius. There was fear there, Esca, great fear, but he stood his ground and died with his honor intact.”_

_“What happened next?” “I asked Lutorius, my second in command, to muster up fifty of the men, although many more volunteered to join me.”_

_“Join you in what?”_

_“I needed to save the patrol, since it had been me who had sent them out the day before. The grain supply was late, and the men’s food was becoming scarce.”_

Esca nodded understanding.

Marcus and the men went out under the protection of the testudo, and managed to get to the patrol, without much loss to them. It was immediately after that Marcus came to understand that Cradoc had never been his friend. That he was loyal to his people, his cause, and his land… not to a Roman, no matter how much he may have liked him, or had pretended to.

A horn sounded and a line of chariots, led by Cradoc, charged toward the fleeing Romans. _“As I ran, I looked around at the faces of my men. I saw one of them lose his leg to the blades at the tip of the wheels on Cradoc’s chariot, and I thought of my father. What I would have wanted to know he did. What I liked to think he had done when seeing his men desperate and needing his strength and support. I turned to face Cradoc, picked up a spear lying on the ground, and ran toward his chariot. From the side of my eyes, I could see some of my men turn and do the same. I threw the spear at Cradoc and Mithras guided it straight to his heart. He fell out of the chariot, and I could see the Druid holding on, but a wheel must have hit a rock, for both he and the chariot flew into the air. Unable to run, I fell to the floor and covered myself as best I could, but the chariot landed on my leg.”_

And obviously exhausted by the memories, and what those memories had signified in his life, Marcus bid Esca a good night and vanished before Esca had the opportunity to bid Marcus the same. That night was one of the longest nights of Esca’s life, comparable only to the night Liathan’s condition had taken a turn for the worse. Esca paced from one end of the house to the other most of the night, unable to stop himself from worrying. Had reliving such painful memories been too much for Marcus? Would he ever return? Esca wouldn’t be able to sleep that night.

@@@@@@@@@@

Thankfully, Esca, who’d dozed off from sheer exhaustion after a night of keeping vigil, was awakened by the sound of Marcus’ voice. _“Briton! Get up, man! We have work to do!”_ A slow and happy grin spread across Esca’s face as his eyes focused on Marcus’. _“I thought you’d gone for good, Roman.”_

_“Aaah… and I am certain that would have made you very happy.”_

Esca caught not only Marcus, but himself by surprise when he shook his head. _“No… it actually would’ve made me very sad. I’ve grown accustomed to your presence, Roman… and I think I’d feel wretched if you were to leave.”_

Marcus stood still and stared deeply into Esca’s eyes, as though he were trying to read his soul. And then he smiled. _“As would I, Briton. As would I. Now… let us get to work. This book will not write itself, and time is not on your side.”_

The memories that day did not get any lighter, but Marcus seemed to be able to handle them better than he had the previous day. This time he spoke of waking up in his uncle’s villa, the one that had once stood in the place of the modern-day villa. Marcus described it a bit different than what was there today: a portico that led to the gardens with fountains built into the floor, an enclosed veranda where Marcus and his uncle would sit and play latrunculli, an open courtyard, and a pergola that Marcus loved sitting under. There was a bath house attached to the back of the villa and stables. The time Marcus had spent there had been happy, and Esca was not blind to that fact. It was then Esca began to understand why almost two millennia later, Marcus found it impossible to detach himself from the villa.

Marcus spoke of his uncle, Lucius Flavius Aquila, a thirty-year veteran who’d marched with the Eagles from one side of Britannia to the other. A confirmed bachelor who had fallen in love with the daughter of his commanding officer, when he was twenty-two and she eighteen. The girl had died unexpectedly, and Lucius was never able to love another again. Marcus told Esca about Stephanos, his uncle’s body slave, who had nursed Marcus during his convalescence, as well as other household slaves whose kindness to him had been embedded in his memory for all time.

By early afternoon, Esca was forced to stop writing because of a parent-teacher conference he did not wish to miss. It was the first one he was going to go to at Ronan’s new school, and he thought it an important opportunity to not only meet Ronan’s teacher’s, but other parents. _“Would you like to come along, Marcus?”_

But the Roman ghost shook his head. _“I would much prefer a long walk on the moors. That always helps clear my thoughts. The solitutde. The quiet.”_

Esca smiled. _“Will you be here when I return, Marcus?”_ Marcus nodded and vanished without another word.

That evening, before they began their work once again, Esca happily shared details of the parent-teacher conference with Marcus. The Roman ghost laughed when he heard of the performance the children put on for their parents, and at Ronan’s interpretation of a tree. Marcus liked Ronan, and although he never mentioned it, Esca always had a feeling Marcus had appointed himself a kind of guardian angel watching over the seven-year-old when the boy found himself away from Esca.

That night Marcus and Esca worked late into the night, for Marcus wanted the book to be finished sooner rather than later; for Esca’s sake. Esca, on the other hand, was in no hurry. He had become so dependent on Marcus’ presence, and the comfort it gave him, that he worried about how things would change once the book was complete? The better question, and one Esca had no answer for was, what change was he expecting?

What did he expect to happen between him and Marcus? It wasn’t as though anything _could_ happen. After all, Marcus was not real. He was an illusion. He only existed because Esca believed he existed.

What could possibly come from that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who are following this story for waiting patiently for this update. I really appreciate your support, feedback, comments, and kudos, more than you know! Its an incredible honor and a great motivator. Thank you again.


	5. Memory

The book was finished.

Esca now knew everything there was to know about Marcus: from his beginning until his end.

Marcus had shared even childhood stories (although not included in the book), that Esca had enjoyed hearing. Esca had especially liked the story where a seven-year old Marcus was teaching himself to wield a wooden sword when it flew out of his hands and hit his father in the face. His poor father had a dinner invitation that very evening and was forced to attend sporting a red and swollen nose. Marcus had laughed at the memory of his father’s black-and-blue nose, which had swollen to the size of _“a large fig,”_ and how angry his father had been with him. Only his mother had been able to stay his father’s hand from whipping Marcus’ backside until he could no longer sit. Esca had laughed, not only at the story, but at how happy Marcus seemed in the telling of it.

Esca had come to enjoy those moments spent with Marcus, and now that the book was done, and all that was needed was to print the 265 pages, and take them to a publisher, Esca found himself wishing they had just begun. Esca now sat watching the pages emerge from the printer when the two pages where Esca had written about Marcus’ rescue of the Eagle of the Ninth Legion slid out. The journey had been a restoration of sorts for Marcus, for not only had the eagle been restored to Rome, but his father’s reputation, and Marcus’ opinion of him had been restored, as well.

Marcus was still very grateful to the man who’d helped him in his quest: Oskar, a Brigantes warrior who’d been taken as a slave after his tribe’s village was attacked by the Romans. Marcus had saved Oskar from meeting his end at the hands of a formidable gladiator in a _“fight to the death,”_ at the local arena. The Roman had persuaded the bloodthirsty spectators to turn their thumbs up and call for Oskar’s life, instead of his death.

Marcus’ uncle, Aquila, noted the interest in his nephew demonstrated in Oskar, and bought him from the circus master to serve as Marcus’ body slave. Eventually, the two became friends, and it was Oskar who accompanied Marcus to the north when the time came. _“You had not had good luck with Britons up to then, Marcus… what made you trust this one?”_ Esca had asked curious.

Marcus had rubbed his chin as though he were inspecting that evening’s stubble, _“I saw honor in him. I had never had the opportunity to notice the honor in Cradoc, although I am certain it was there. Do not forget, Briton, Cradoc never swore an oath of honor to me. In hindsight, it can truthfully be said it was I who forced a friendship between us… Cradoc did not seek me out. Where Oskar swore an oath of honor to me from the very first.”_

_“And you believed him.”_

_“Why should I not? I am telling you, Briton, there was a deep sense of honor in him, and in the end… I was not wrong to trust him.”_

_“Well, no, there was the fact that he had you going around in circles in Caledonia, instead of telling you from the moment you guys set out, that he knew exactly where the Eagle was.”_

Marcus shook his head, _“He had his reasons.”_

As far as Marcus was concerned, he’d placed his trust on a worthy recipient, for not only did Oskar take Marcus to the north and brought him back safe and sound, he refused to leave Marcus’ side even after Marcus had freed him and presented him with the option.

_“Why do you think he did not go, Marcus?”_ Esca inquired not sure what he expected from Marcus' answer. Esca had a suspicion as to why Oskar had not left Marcus’ side. He must have fallen in love with him. Why not? It wasn’t as though Marcus was unattractive or unappealing. Marcus was handsome, sexy, and desirable, and Esca had long realized he himself had fallen for the Roman ghost. What would have made Oskar any different? And now Esca couldn’t help but feel jealous of Oskar. Had something happened between Marcus and Oskar? Had they been lovers? When Marcus spoke of Oskar, Marcus’ eyes would light up; he’d become animated, almost cocky.

_“I asked him that once… and he said he had nowhere else to go…”_

Esca resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the crock of crap Oskar had fed Marcus and Marcus had swallowed.

_“…remember, we had decimated his tribe, his family was dead, and he did not wish to join another tribe that was not his own.”_

_“Well, it wasn't you who decimated his tribe and killed his family. Other Romans had done that.”_

_“It does not matter, my people had injured him, and his. Oskar had a right to hate all of us whether directly involved in the atrocity or not.”_

Esca forced himself to agree with a quick nod of the head so as not to show his true feelings.

_“It very well might have been me had the raid happened seven years later.”_

_“Yes, but thankfully it didn’t. Your hands were clean of that matter.”_ Esca decided to move away from the subject of Oskar since he found he could not argue it unimpassioned. _“During my studies I remember reading that the Brigantes also inhabited parts of Hibernia. Couldn’t Oskar have gone there? I mean… I doubt his tribe was the whole of the Brigantes nation. Was it not more of a small part of the tribe as a whole?”_

_“What does it matter to you, Briton? This book is not about Oskar’s tribe, nor its position in the whole of Britannia.”_

Esca could tell by Marcus’ tone he was frustrated. He was very defensive about Oskar and not very willing to speak anymore than he had to about him.

_“Apologies… I was just wondering what had prompted him to stay, when he could have taken his part of the reward monies and gone off to begin a life of his own. Normal question and nothing to get huffy about.”_ Esca remembered, as the pages continued to slide out from the printer, how quiet Marcus had become, and his stony glare as he’d vanished until the following morning. At that moment, Esca knew he hadn’t been wrong in assuming Oskar had been close to Marcus’ heart.

Was it just as a friend? That was the question Esca was most curious about, but he would soon come to know the answer.

The next page that caught Esca’s attention was Marcus’ proposed betrothal to the niece of Aquila’s neighbor: Kaeso, a fellow magistrate of his. Her name was Cottia and she was of the Icenii. Cottia, a ginger haired girl of blue-green eyes and pale skin, had befriended Marcus during his convalescence, and had remained his friend. The match was purely Aquila’s idea. An idea that had been joyously accepted by Kaeso and his wife, Valeria, both Britons themselves. Except that Kaeso and Valeria had long been Romanized, and enjoyed the privilege, and financial stability their Romanization afforded them. Cottia had not accepted her new life in a Roman world, and the only person who understood her reasoning, had been Marcus. Therefore, a betrothal with the handsome young Roman wasn’t something Cottia would have thought of shunning, no matter how much she disliked what he represented.

It was Marcus who’d been less than excited about the prospect of marrying Cottia, or anyone else for that matter, for he was not yet ready. Even when Marcus shared the story with Esca, 1,875 years later, the Roman ghost was more than grateful the betrothal, nor the marriage had ever come to pass. Even if the reason had been his untimely death. Esca sat back in the comfortable leather, arms crossed over his chest, and thought back on how Marcus had described his own death and what had come after.

“ _I remember riding Vipsania…”_

_“Your horse?”_

_“Yes… she spooked and reared… I fell off and landed on my back… with a large rock as pillow for my head.”_ Marcus had stopped at that point, sighed deeply, and walked out onto the small balcony outside Esca’s bedroom. He leaned his hands against the banister and looked out at the open green fields beyond.

_“It was a day no different than today. The sun was high in the sky, the birds were in full song, and the world around me seemed at peace. I did not expect it all to end that day. I would have thought years from then, when I was an older man, with sons of my own and their children at my knee… but not that day.”_

Esca had felt true empathy for the Roman ghost at that moment. He reached out to touch Marcus’ hand, but the Roman ghost pulled it away. _“I am sorry, Marcus. I am sorry it ended that way for you. You deserved to have had those children and grandchildren and a nice long life.”_

_“Yes, but unfortunately the gods did not share your thoughts, did they? They thought it better to snatch my life from me just when I had achieved everything I had ever wanted.”_ Marcus laughed. A bitter laugh. A sad laugh. _“They can be cruel, you know, the gods. They do not consider our wishes, nor our desires. They are unwilling to let us have more than our fair share, even if we have earned it many times over. Yes… they can be very cruel.”_

Esca suddenly remembered Oskar and was curious as to what would have become of him with Marcus gone. But apparently, he had been well cared for by Aquila, Marcus’ uncle. After Marcus’ death, his uncle had given Oskar the reward monies he believed rightfully belonged to the former slave; especially since had it not been for Oskar, Rome would not have its Eagle back, and Marcus would have met his fate alone and unmourned at the hands of the Northern barbarians.

Oskar remained at the Aquila villa all his days until his death at a ripe old age. It was Oskar who lived out Marcus’ dream of a long life and a family to fill his days with Cottia at his side as his wife. Esca who had always thought himself to have impeccable “gaydar,” had been thrown back with this revelation. So, Oskar had just wanted to stay at Marcus’ side out of loyalty, brotherhood, and the oath.

His being in love with Marcus had had nothing to do with it, or… perhaps Oskar had figured since Marcus was no longer around, and his chance with the Roman had come to an abrupt end, he’d slip back into the closet and marry Cottia.

_“I stood up, noted Vipsania was nowhere to be found and set off back to the villa. As I reached that point there...,”_ Marcus pointed toward an area of the field which must have looked very different then but was now a part of the neighbor’s farm. _“Oskar was walking in the direction I had just come from, and he walked right passed me. I thought perhaps he was angry with me, for… he was stubborn, much like you.”_ Marcus smiled, and Esca smirked. _“I called out to him, but he still did not answer. And then… and then I heard him cry out my name in a way I had only heard others call the names of those they had just lost.”_

Esca had stood straighter knowing what was to come.

_“When I approached him… he was kneeling over a body, and I moved around to the other side… I could see it was my body.”_ Marcus looked up at the blue sky and sighed deeply. _“I had not survived the fall as I had thought.”_

_“What did Oskar do?”_

_“He cried… he cried more than any man I had ever seen cry before.”_

_“Did he say anything to you?”_

_“He did, but… those are things only I need know.”_

Esca chuckled trying to hide his surprise at Marcus’ words: _“Even me?”_

_“Even you.”_

As the last sheet slid out from the printer, Esca took it, and placed it at the bottom of the 264 other pages. He then typed out the title of the book he and Marcus had agreed upon: _The Autobiography of a Roman Ghost._

Esca thought to himself how people would rightly believe this was something he’d made up off the top of his head, but how wrong they would be. If there was something Esca had always believed was that often times life can be more gripping, or compelling than anything any writer can think of. At that moment he was a living example of that belief for here he was sharing a home with a man who had lived and died near two-thousand years earlier; sitting across from him and listening to his story.

Marcus had promised him it would be a great success and Esca had learned to trust Marcus. He had also learned that he was more in love with the Roman ghost than he dared to admit to even himself. All it took was the mere sound of Marcus’ voice for Esca's heart to nearly leap out of his chest; and not from fright.

That night Esca stood on his small balcony looking out at the darkness: a part of him feeling blessed to find himself where he stood and another part wishing he’d never rented the small villa. He should have listened to Mr. Carmichael.

_“What are you thinking about Briton?”_

Esca jumped startled for his thoughts had been far away… with Liathan… in a happier place in time.

_“Nothing.”_ Esca did not feel he owed Marcus an answer for it was none of his business, just as Oskar’s words hadn’t been Esca’s business when he had asked Marcus what they had been.

Marcus nodded understanding. _“Perhaps I should let you be. Thinking is always a thing best done on your own.”_

Esca shrugged uncaring whether Marcus stayed or went.

The Roman ghost confused him, and Esca had never liked feeling confused. Confusion made him feel vulnerable and unsettled; two feelings he’d thought he had left behind when he made the move from Liathan’s family’s home.

Esca turned and headed back into the room and began turning down his blankets and fluffing the pillows on his bed. After readying his bed for the night, Esca faced Marcus and bid him goodnight.

_“I see. You do not wish my company this night.”_ Marcus did not move from in front of the now closed double doors that led out onto the small balcony. _“May I ask why?”_

Marcus’ refusal to answer Esca’s question about what Oskar had said to him as he lay dying, had not happened that day; At least three days had passed since. Marcus, therefore, was unaware of anything he could have done to provoke Esca since then. Marcus knew well Esca had seemed offended by Marcus’ refusal to share Oskar’s words with him. But he also thought Esca had gotten past it. Obviously, he hadn’t.

_“I am tired Marcus. I would rather be alone, if you don’t mind. Please.”_

_“Very well, Esca. I will let you be. Tomorrow then.”_

Esca nodded and walked toward the small closet to undress for bed. By the time he turned to walk back toward his bed, Marcus was gone and Esca sighed in relief. He did not want Marcus around him. He needed to sort his feelings out and define his options: to stay and learn to live beside someone he could never have or move away and start over somewhere else.

Let who ever came after him deal with Marcus.

Again, Esca's thoughts went Ronan, and the boys comfort in his new home and school. But if the book was as successful as Marcus had said it would be, he could afford to place his son in the best school money could afford, or even tutor him at home. Many parents chose to school their children in that fashion. Esca lay his weary head on his pillow, and no sooner had he done so, when he drifted off to sleep.

Or so he thought.

_“Esca.”_

Esca heard Marcus’ voice cutting through his sleep.

_“Esca.”_

_“Marcus… didn’t I tell you I don’t want you around me.”_ Esca answered without opening his eyes or turning his head toward the sound of Marcus' voice.

_“No. You told me you wished to be alone. But… if you no longer want me around you… if you have grown tired of me… turn around, look into my eyes, and tell me to leave. I promise I will disappear and you will never see me again.”_

Esca finally turned around and gasped as he saw Marcus lying beside him. Marcus had his arm wrapped around Esca’s chest and he was whispering the words into his hair as he inhaled its scent. Esca’s eyes widened unsure of what they were seeing. Marcus was a ghost, and yet he seemed solid. He WAS solid for Esca could feel the weight of his arm, and the soft caress of his fingers entwining Esca’s hair. Marcus propped himself up on one elbow, leaned over Esca so that the tip of his nose was pressed against Esca’s.

_“Tell me to leave you, Esca. Say it.”_

Esca shook his head vehemently. _“No. Never Marcus. Never. Please don't ever leave me.”_

Marcus smiled and closed the inches between them and kissed Esca’s mouth with insatiable hunger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish to thank all of you who take the time to read this chapter and this story. I also apologize to those of you who have been waiting for an update. There has been much going on and I have been unable to update as quickly as I would otherwise wish to do. Thank you for your comments and your kudos (if you deem it worthy of both). Your words are a much valued gift and I treasure every one. Thank you, thank you, thank you, dear friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much for taking the time to read this work. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, or if you didn't, or you want to share feedback... please, please feel free to do so. Thanks again. I appreciate your time.


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